


Do Whatever it Takes

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Distress and Disarray [27]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rank Disparity, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: In which Hamilton wakes in his general’s arms and only wants to stay.





	Do Whatever it Takes

Hamilton is not prone to sound sleep.

His nights are habitually restless, interrupted by moments of consciousness just long enough to jot himself notes—thoughts and ideas that have come clear to his ceaselessly noisy mind—before returning to bed. Through either biology or simply long practice, he regularly functions on less sleep than his crew mates seem to require.

It’s a distinctive rhythm, but it works well enough. He has yet to exhaust himself into poor judgment or sickbay, at the very least.

Given this habitual restlessness, there’s something like irony in the fact that he sleeps more soundly in Washington’s bed than he ever has before.

He wakes to morning, without any prompting from the computer. His first moments are disoriented confusion at the unfamiliar pillow under his head, the well-rested sensation beneath his skin, the fact that he remembers no dreams.

There are muscular arms holding him, warmth along his back, the sound of steady breathing in his ear.

That’s right. He’s not in his own cramped quarters. He is in Washington’s bed. Because his general was dead, and now he’s not, and Hamilton could not bear to be apart from him.

Hamilton holds perfectly still as this rush of comprehension overtakes him. For once he is in no hurry to rise and begin his day. The last thing he wants is to remove himself from Washington’s arms.

He’s equally reluctant to wake his general, painfully aware that this moment won’t last.

Eventually Washington will open his eyes, and the spell will shatter. He will extricate himself from the blankets and take his hands off of Hamilton. He will _leave_ , and they will be right back to their shaky stalemate.

Frustrated denial surges through Hamilton’s heart at this fact, though the feeling is not new. If anything, it’s maddeningly representative of the stasis that has hovered between them for months.

It’s a stasis they can no longer sustain. Hamilton realizes this fact with all the force of a mystical revelation, and yet the understanding feels inevitable. They are both reaching a breaking point. This understanding they share is potent—so bright and vivid that people are already noticing—and Hamilton sincerely cannot fathom continuing to pretend.

His general is _everything_ to him. And Washington must reciprocate, or he would surely have sent Hamilton away by now. That he’s flaunted regulations and kept Hamilton close instead…

That’s a deliberate decision. A concession to the pull between them. A selfish admission that _Washington_ can’t bear such a separation either.

Hamilton doesn’t know what to do with this information. The knowledge that something has to change provides no guidance at all about what he needs to do. He has tried to convince his general with words. He has made it clear so many times that at the first faint hint of encouragement from Washington, Hamilton is his. Heart, body, soul.

Everything.

The question of _what now_ threatens to send him into an overwhelmed tailspin, so Hamilton sets the challenge aside. He draws a slow breath, and then takes a careful chance—squirming onto his other side—trying to do so in a way that will not wake his general. 

Then, once sure of success, Hamilton curls against Washington’s chest, ducking his head beneath his general’s chin and pressing an ear to the steady heartbeat.

He listens for a very long time. Cherishing the warmth of the arms still wrapped loosely around him. Keeping his own breath slow and steady.

Reminding himself that Washington is alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Irony, Distinct, Represent
> 
> I also hang out **[over on Dreamwidth](https://dreamlittleyo.dreamwidth.org/)** , if you'd like to find me. (And have set up a **[Hamilton/Washington Community](https://whamilton.dreamwidth.org/)** over there, just a heads up to anyone who might be interested :)


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